My blanket is a sheet of ice, and my mattress
An uneven boulder with an angry ripple digging into my
Spine as hot tears form thundering rivers down my face.
My face,
Completely still, omitting the occasional blink of my stinging, dull eyes.
My eyes, a vault, containing the hourglass that has become my mind
Where I've collapsed, trembling,
With golden sands streaming from above, somehow finding their way
Into my eyes and mouth as I desperately cross my pale arms
Over my head in a weak attempt
To block The Memories from streaming into my conscious.
No movement. Numb
Still no awareness of my true world other than the wetness of my cheeks,
And the sharp pain which
Is beginning to travel down my spine.
And the sand has surrounded me, obstructing my vision
With their golden projections of The Past,
Burning my eyes and seeping into the cracks
Of the walls around my heart
As I let out my first choking sob,
Causing a painful tremor down my back,
And forcing me to **** away from the rock beneath me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping that I can remove The Memories
From my mind.
I hug my knees to my chest and pray for some
Reprieve.
Praying for
Rest.
Praying for The Numbness to return.